The Bottom
by xotayxo
Summary: She finally hit the bottom. Dark Jemi two-shot. Mentions attempted suicide.
1. Chapter 1

And i'm back! with another short story...this one will only be 2 parts.

enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. **

**  
In a response to the review i received......I know that real person fics are not allowed on this site. I learned that when one of my stories was deleted when i first started on here. I apologize for not making the names clear enough. **

**  
****Last names are as follows: Joe Lucas  
Nick Lucas  
Kevin Lucas  
Demi Torres**

**Warning: Attempted suicide.....  
**

* * *

She was done. Completely and utterly done. She couldn't take it anymore. She needed to get out. She didn't want to be here anymore.

Sure, she had the perfect life. It depends on what someone considers "perfect." She had the money, she had the fame, she had the talent, she had the clothes, but one thing she didn't have? Happiness.

Anyone who saw her would never know that she was so broken inside. She always put on a front to everyone around her to assure them she was okay. But when she was alone, with nothing but her music surrounding her, she was a mess. And as a result of this, she had 2 notebooks filled with songs she had written to release her anger, cure her broken heart, and convey her emotions. These songs were kept locked away in a place no one knew about. And, being in the music business, she knew these songs would earn her more money than anything else she had ever written, but she didn't care. These songs were true emotions, and she did not want them released to the world.

And then there was **him**. The boy whom her heart belonged to. For her, there was no one else buthim. He was perfection in her eyes. Every little movement he made, she noticed. She knew it was silly for her to be acting like this, but that's what being in love did to her.

She also knew that she would have no chance of ever being with him. He would never go for a plain girl like herself. There were plenty other, much prettier girls, out there for him. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to get over him.

And so, she threw herself into her music, pouring every one of her emotions into each and every song. She was at the studio early in the morning and didn't leave until late at night. When she wasn't at the studio, she kept to herself in her spacious L.A. home.

She also had a secret, a secret that would shatter her career if word got out. No one knew about it, not even her best friend. She went to great lengths to keep it a secret, and so far, she had succeeded.

* * *

Meanwhile, next door, a boy, around 21 years old, was worrying about a certain dark haired beauty whom he had taken a liking to. He cared a lot about her, and whether she was aware of that or not, he did not know. Ever since the first time he laid eyes on her, he could sense that there was something different about her. It was contagious, and it drew him to her like a magnet. It didn't take him long to realize that he had fallen in love with her.

He began to notice she kept to herself more often, and hardly ever talked to him and his brothers anymore. She rarely came out to the social events anymore, and when she did, she didnt seem happy to be there in the first place. She often left early from the parties and dances, claiming she "didn't feel well," but he knew better. She shut herself away from the world, and he was determined to put an end to it.

* * *

**Monday. 7 am.**

She awoke to the shrill ringing of her alarm clock on her nightstand; a sign that another day had arrived. Groping blindly for the snooze button, her hand found it and turned the sound off. Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the high ceiling of her large bedroom.

"Another dawn, another day," she thought to herself, and with that, she flung the covers off of her body and stretched. She set about her morning routine, making her way downstairs to her kitchen to set her coffee maker to brew in 45 minutes, then heading back up to shower, brush her hair, apply her makeup, and brush her teeth.

She was back downstairs in time for the ding of the coffee maker, signaling to her that her coffee was finished. She poured the hot coffee into her mug, added cream and sugar to it, and swiftly stirred the contents with a spoon.

5 minutes later, she had her purse, wallet, cell phone, and keys, and was out the door.

Another morning, another afternoon, and another night at the studio.

* * *

He awoke around 8 am, and immediately went to his window. From this spot, he could see the front yard of her house. He gave a sigh of defeat. Her car was already gone. He was too late.

He decided he would wait until she came back later that night to go and talk to her. He knew for a face that she never parked her car in her garage, so he would know when she got home.

He made his way downstairs, mumbling a "good morning" to his older brother, who was reading the paper, before pouring himself a cup of coffee and going to watch TV in the living room.

* * *

**LATER ON.......11 pm.**

He was in his room, on his bed, idly strumming his guitar when he saw headlights shine into his window and heard the hum of a car next door. He set his guitar down and went to his window. Sure enough, it was her. He saw her get out of the car, arms laden with what looked like groceries. She fumbled with her keys, but managed to unlock her door.

As he watched her disappear into her house, he couldn't help but feel like something was wrong, or something ominous was about to happen.

* * *

She could feel someone's eyes on her, and glancing up, she noticed **him** looking out his window. She shook her head, knowing that he couldn't have been the one watching her. He couldn't possibly have any interest in her. She stepped into the foyer of her home, setting her keys on the table before making her way into the kitchen. She put her bags down on the island and began unloading them. Once she was finished, she took her dinner out of the refrigerator, which was leftover chicken and pasta, and reheated it in the microwave.

After she was finished eating, she rinsed her dishes in the sink and placed them in the dishwasher. Turning the dishwasher on, she washed her hands and dried them off with a towel.

It was a routine. Come home, eat dinner, do the dishes, and then back up to her room for the night. She set the timer for the lights to go off at 1:30 and made her way upstairs.

* * *

He watched as she made her way upstairs, turning lights on and off as she passed. He still couldn't shake the ominous feeling he had, and he had a strong hunch it involved the breathtaking girl who lived next door.

* * *

The night was warm; balmy for an April night. She opened her window and let the breeze lift her hair away from her face. She looked out at the moon shining high in the sky, and then glanced over at **his** house. Most of the lights were off, except for 2. One was his older brothers room, and the other was his. She sighed, wishing she could tell him how she felt about him, but she knew it would be pointless. He would never feel the same way. She looked out one last time and then made her way back to her bed.

On her bed she had 2 notebooks, which contained songs no one has ever seen or heard before, a blank piece of paper, a pen, and a razor.

On the blank piece of paper, she wrote notes to several different people: her best friend, Disney, his older brother, his younger brother, and finally, **him**. She didn't mention his name at all; however, while she was writing, her free hand absentmindedly rubbed a scar on her wrist. She had carved his initials into her skin, so that she would have an everlasting memory of him when she was gone. He wasn't the reason she was doing this, and she made that quite clear in her note to him. She was doing this because she did not belong where she was, and she would never be good enough; not for him, not for anyone.

She finished writing the notes out and signed her name with a flourish. She was surprised with herself. She thought that this would be lot harder than it really is. She shed no tears, she had no regrets. She felt that she was doing this for the best.

She got up off her bed to sit on the floor, bringing everything with her. She added a post script to the notes, which read:

"Feel free to do whatever you'd like with these songs. They've never been seen by anyone else, so use them wisely. 3"

She picked up the razor and held it in her hand, like it was an old friend. She had done this so many times before that it had become second nature. She knew that this was not good for her, but she found a sense of completion as she watched the blood run down her wrist, and saw the fresh cut. She couldn't explain it.

She dragged the razor across the skin of her wrist, not even feeling the pain of the blade cutting into her skin. It was like she was immune to the pain. She let her fingers do the work, and when she looked down, his initials were imprinted once more in her flesh. As she watched the rivers of blood cascade down her wrist, she thought of all the pain and suffering she had put herself through. Was it really worth it??

* * *

He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't sit here in his room without knowing she was okay. It was like he could tell something was wrong with her, and somehow he knew that he would be the only one to help her. He jumped up off his bed, grabbed his phone and house key, and bolted down the stairs 2 at a time.

His younger brother was on the couch in the family room when he burst through the door to the kitchen. The youngest jumped, startled, shot an annoyed glance at his older brother, and continued to watch his show. The elder paid no attention, however, as he looked around for his sweatshirt, finally spotting it on the back of a chair in the dining room. Pulling it on over his t-shirt, he shouted an "I'll be back later!" to his brother and headed out the back door.

Crossing over to her yard, he made his way to the front door. Surprisingly, he found it to be unlocked. Quietly, so that he wouldn't give himself away, he pushed open the door and let himself into the foyer. Her keys were in the basket, and he made his way into the kitchen, which was spotless. It seemed as if she was never in there, but the lights gave it away. He retraced his steps and made his way to the winding staircase that lead upstairs. He hesitantly began climbing the stairs, careful not to make a sound. He stepped on a step that creaked particularly loud, and he froze, praying she didn't hear it. He reached the landing, and stood there for a few minutes, listening, hoping he could figure out where she was.

* * *

As she continued what she was doing, the tears finally began to fall. They began to blend in with the crimson color of her blood that stained the wooden floor.

Something creaked outside her bedroom, and she froze, horrified that someone was in her house. They couldn't see her like this; she had planned this to be hidden from everyone. She hurriedly tried to clean up everything that she had sprawled out all over her floor, and in her haste, the razor she held in her hand slipped and sliced a gash in her wrist. Gasping, she dropped everything else in her hands and fell to the floor, sobbing. Groping for the towel that was on her floor, she attempted to stem the flow of blood, but to no avail. The blood continued to run from the wound, and suddenly, she felt light-headed. She sat up, and put her head between her knees, willing the nausea to disappear, but it didn't. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell back, hitting her head on the wood, and moved no more.

* * *

He heard movement, he just didn't know from where. Then, he heard a gasp and a loud 'thud' come from a room down the hall and to the right. Wasting no time, he ran into the room, nearly knocking the door off its hinges. What he saw shocked him. This beautiful woman, whom he had fallen in love with, was curled up on the floor, motionless. Blood stained various places around her, and as he got closer, he noticed a 2 inch cut on her wrist, along with various other scars littering her arms. He tried to hold back his tears. What had caused her to do this to herself? It was then that he caught a glimpse of her right wrist. His initials were carved into her skin, and the wound was fresh. He looked at her other wrist. Sure enough, there was a faint scar of his initials imprinted in her skin. He was stunned. Had he caused her to drive herself to suicide? What kind of person was he?

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his younger brother's cell number, knowing he wouldn't answer the house phone.

"Joe, what do you --" He cut him off.

"Nick, shut up and listen. I'm next door at Demi's house. She's hurt. Badly. I need you to call 911, now. Give them Demi's address, then call Kevin. Tell him to meet me at the hospital. I don't want to be there alone. Can you do that for me?"

"You know I'd do anything for you, and I know you really care about Demi. I'll get Kev to come pick me up on his way. I know you'll need us both there."

Relief swept through the middle brother. "Thank you so much. I'll see you in a bit." He hung up the phone.

He slowly picked the unconscious girl up and cradled her in his arms. She felt weightless in his arms. He carefully but swiftly carried her down the stairs and placed her on the couch in the living room.

Not a minute later did he hear sirens. Looking outside the large bay window, he saw the flashing lights and watched as the ambulance pulled up the driveway. He was right at the door so he could tell them everything.

After speaking with the head of the medic team, he watched as they poked and prodded the girl who had stolen his heart. He was startled when one of them asked, "Would you like to ride in the back with her?"

He nodded, and climbed in the back of the ambulance after they loaded her in. He looked away as they started an IV line in her arm and then sat down beside her. Taking her small hand in his, he rubbed circles with his thumb, and whispered soothing words in her ear, even though he knew she couldn't hear him.

As they made their way to the hospital, he whispered in her ear, "I love you," and finally let the tears fall.

* * *

okay, so i know this is not what i normally write, but it was an idea that popped into my head and just escalated from there. All types of comments are appreciated.

xo


	2. Chapter 2

here's the last part to this...it was hard to write....i kept getting writers block.

to anyone who is reading this, i hope you enjoy!

**last names in 1st part pertain to this part as well. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. **

* * *

She was drifting, weightless and dizzy. She could hear voices, but her brain could not distingush between them. She asked herself, "I know these people, don't I?" but she couldn't remember. She saw a light very far ahead of her and she forced her hand to touch the light. She struggled to open her eyes, and when she succeeded, she snapped them shut again, for the white light was blinding.

Once she had adjusted, she opened her eyes again slowly and attempted to take in her surroundings.

There was a lot of white. Too much white, in her opinion. She immediately figured out that she was in a hospital. Lovely. She hated hospitals. An IV was taped to her hand, and the line snaked down the side of her bed and was hooked up to a bag filled with some sort of fluid.

She suddenly became aware of the fact that someone was holding her hand. Moving her head slowly to the right, she stifled a gasp. HE was holding her hand, his thumb rubbing small circles on her skin. His head was down, almost as if he was ashamed by something.

"Joe?" her voice was soft.

His head snapped up at the sound of his name, and he looked over to see a pair of tired, but beautiful brown eyes staring back at him.

"Yeah, Dems?" she smiled at the nickname he had given her when they first started working together, and he was the only person who was allowed to call her that.

He smiled back at her, and waited for her to speak.

She pulled her hand away from his, and he frowned ever so slightly, but she rested the hand on his cheek, stroking lightly. He leaned in her touch, and almost didn't hear her speak.

"Is that really you?" she breathed.

He moved to take her hand in his again, and lightly ran his fingertips across her skin, sending shivers up her spine.

"Yes, it really is me. Did you think no one cared about you?"

She hung her head. She was wrong. Someone did care about her. And ironically, she thought he didn't care about her; yet, he did.

It was at that moment that she became aware that thick white bandages were covering her wrists. He gaze was drawn to them, and then it registered in her mind.

He saw, which meant, he knew.

She kept her gaze down, afraid to look him in the eyes, She didn't want to see the disappointment and the anger that she was bound to get from him.

He watched her closely, keeping silent as she looked down to the bandages on her wrists and then down at her lap. He like a horrible person for doing this to her.

He slowly brought his hand to her face, tipping her chin up so her eyes would be level with his. He noticed that she let him tip her chin up, but her eyes were the last thing to rise. When her eyes finally met his, he couldn't help but smile. She was so gorgeous, even at her worst.

She gave him a weak smile in return, and leaned into him. She was waiting for the question to come, and she was ready to stall answering in any way possible.

It never came.

She looked up at him, and was surprised at what she saw. His face was serene, and he looked down at her with care and concern. She decided to speak up.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here? Or why I cut myself?"

He looked to the window, and then back at her.

"How about you tell me," he said, his voice calm and understanding.

And so she told him. She told him everything; how she had been pressured to release an album every year, how everyone criticized her appearance and rarely praised her, how any guy would "take an interest in her" and then break her heart, and as a result, she had gone into depression. She told him how easy it was to put up a wall around her, and make everyone else believe that she was perfectly fine, when in reality, she was broken. She told him how she had written songs to release her emotions, and with that he stopped her for a brief moment.

"You mean the songs in these notebooks?" he asked her, holding up 2 worn out notebooks that were hers. She nodded, casting her eyes down.

"Hey, look at me," he said softly, and she obeyed. He stroked her cheek softly before replying.

"You've been out for 2 days. And during those two days, I looked through these notebooks, trying to find any reason as to what made you do this to yourself. I saw the note you wrote as well, and I couldn't help but feel like part of it was directed towards me. Then, when I found you on the floor in your home, I saw my initials on your wrist. I tore myself apart inside; I felt like such a horrible person for doing this to you. And the songs that you wrote, they blew me away. They're amazing. You truly have a gift. And just in case you didn't know, I care about you. More than you think. Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about you." His eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

She couldn't find the words to speak. A million emotions were running through her mind right now, yet one reigned over all of them. Love. She could tell he spoke every word with sincerity, and meant everything he said. Another emotion, relief, swept through her, washing away everything. All her fears, all her insecurities, everything. Gone. Tears filled her eyes, and threatened to spill over. She moved closer to him, and ran her hand through his curly hair.

"You really do care," she spoke, and he smiled, relieved that she finally understood.

"Yes, I do," he said, and he then closed the gap between them, kissing her softly.

She had broken down completely, but with the help of a certain someone, she would be fixed.

Everything would be alright.

_Fin_

* * *

so....what did you think?

xo


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